


Blood Brothers

by ClownsOnAPlane



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Addict Sam, And Dean is all "Sammy no", And it gets kinky, Basically Sam gets addicted to Dean's blood, Blood Kink, But after Sam gets a taste something snaps in Dean, Dark fic (no like really dark), Demon Blood, Demon Dean, Hurt/Comfort/Porn, Like it starts as hurt comfort then it turns into angst then it turns into porn, M/M, that's it that's the fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-28
Updated: 2014-05-28
Packaged: 2018-01-26 21:25:25
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,150
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1703051
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ClownsOnAPlane/pseuds/ClownsOnAPlane
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The moment Sam had first seen the black of Dean’s eyes, he had expected everything to change. He had expected someone less like his brother and more like the monsters they’d spent their entire lives hunting. But demon or not, Dean was still…Dean. If Sam ignored the flashes of black that passed over Dean’s eyes in moments of intensity, he could almost convince himself that it was just like old times. Just like it had always been. But a hunt gone wrong shows Sam exactly why that kind of logic is dangerous.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Blood Brothers

The moment Sam had first seen the black of Dean’s eyes, he had expected everything to change. He had expected someone less like his brother and more like the monsters they’d spent their entire lives hunting. But demon or not, Dean was still…Dean. He still drove the Impala on hunts (after Sam had removed the extensive demon-proofing in the car), he still took first shower when they stayed in motels, he still bought garish copies of Busty Asian Beauties at gas-n-sips, he still made his trademark “Samantha” jokes. It was easy to forget that the man in the driver’s seat wasn’t the brother Sam had grown up with. He imagined this was how Dean felt when he himself had been without a soul, or when he’d gone darkside to break the seals. Dean hadn’t given up on him then, and Sam sure as hell wasn’t going to give up on Dean now. No pun intended. Whether Dean was one of Hell’s bitches or not, he was still a good man. A righteous man. He still cared about saving people, hunting things…even when those things were his own kind. But when it came to killing other demons, Dean never batted an eye. He thrust Ruby’s knife into them with all the fluidity of his human self, never seeming to care that he was killing his own species. Dean had always hated the sons of bitches, and becoming one wasn’t going to change that. Sam suspected it gave his brother yet another excuse to hate himself even more. But if ganking demons helped Dean come to terms with his new identity, Sam wasn’t going to argue. They’d learned a long time ago that “demon” and “evil” weren’t mutually exclusive, and Dean seemed to be determined to prove that both to Sam, and himself. If Sam ignored the flashes of black that passed over Dean’s eyes in moments of intensity, he could almost convince himself that it was just like old times. Just like it had always been.

 

It was a hunt in North Dakota- should have been a simple salt and burn. But when you’re a Winchester, “simple” is a subjective term. The poltergeist had gotten ahold of Dean and thrown him through a rotting staircase while Sam fumbled with Dean’s lighter trying to burn the object tying it to the house. Five minutes later, the Impala was tearing out of the driveway, Dean slumped in the passenger seat and Sam clutching his own shoulder to stem the blood flow. It seemed like an eternity before they were bursting through the door of their motel room, dropping their gear, and shedding layers. True to form, Dean was batting Sam’s hands away before he could peel the bloodied flannel off his shoulders. Dean turned to remove the med kit from his duffle, pulling out a roll of gauze and the bottle of Jack they’d been using for disinfectant. When he turned back to Sam, his eyes were pure black with intensity and concentration. He set about cleaning his little brother’s wounds, pressing into his skin with practiced fingers to check for broken bones. Dean hissed as he finally set the gauze down, clutching at his own arm. “Your turn,” Sam said simply, picking up the nearly empty bottle of Jack. “Damnit. Almost out. It’s not enough to soak the gauze.”

“Don’t care. Just clean it,” Dean gritted out through clenched teeth as Sam peeled the crusted jacket from Dean’s arm. Shit…Sam couldn’t even see the wound, there was so much blood caked on his brother’s skin. He capped the bottle and tossed it on the bed.

“Bathroom. Sink. Now.” He said simply. Dean winced, nodded, and headed for the bathroom door, Sam behind him. Sam stepped over to the sink, ran the hot water and pulled Dean’s arm into the clear stream, red running off his brother’s skin in rivulets and down the drain. Just like old times, Sam thought as he gently scrubbed. The water re-constituted the blood, and a familiar scent floated up to Sam’s nostrils, making his vision blur and his head spin. A scent he had spent years craving, dreading, trying to forget. That’s when it hit him. This wasn’t just his brother’s blood he was touching, washing down the drain. It was demon blood. Sam reeled back, rinsing the blood off his hands in a panic, desperate to get away from the all-too familiar substance, but all the more desperate to get closer. Shit. How could he have been so stupid? Save Dean, help Dean, that’s all that had been running through his head. He needed to clean up his brother. Just like he always had. Sam had completely forgotten that Dean was…that Dean was…

” **Sam**!”

His brother’s voice broke him out of his stupor. Wide-eyed and unaware of how hard he was breathing, Sam looked up to meet Dean’s green gaze. “Sam, what’s wrong with you, you look like a fuckin’ junkie trying to-“

Dean’s mouth fell open and his eyes grew wide. He clutched at his arm as though somehow it would stop the scent of his blood from filling Sam’s nostrils, his mind, from thrumming through his veins as if he had already tasted it. “Sammy…” Dean breathed, his eyes flashing black for a split second. “Sammy, fuck, I’m so sorry, I forgot. I…”

“It’s okay…So did I,” Sam managed, his own blood rushing through his ears so loudly he hardly heard himself speak. His head was spinning as if mere proximity was giving him a contact high. It had been so long since he’d let himself remember, so long since he’d let himself _want_ it…his chest was rising and falling erratically, his pupils blown. He couldn’t even tell you what color his brother’s eyes were at the moment. It was as if the entire world had been narrowed down to the thin remnants of rusty red swirling into the sink, the dark life force flowing out of his brother’s skin and into the drain, into the air, and into Sam’s very consciousness.

“Jesus, Sam…” Dean whispered, looking every bit as panicked as Sam felt. “I can HEAR your heart beating, sounds like you’re about to have a damn heart attack.”

“Feels like it,” Sam agreed breathlessly, the room seeming to spin without him. His veins felt as though electricity was dancing through them, his entire body was humming with the memory of the feeling of the high. And damn if it wasn’t the best he’d felt in months.

Shit…he thought he’d beaten and buried this years ago. But now that he’s faced with the blood, and it’s _Dean's_ , he knows he doesn’t have a chance. He’s fucked and he knows it. He wants, so badly. Wants to bring Dean’s arm to his lips and lick across the skin. Wants to bring his lips up to Dean’s and bite into the soft flesh, wants to feel the blood flow warm into his mouth along with Dean’s breaths and moans. Wants to give in to every damn urge he’s ever tried to suppress around his brother. He needs it. Needs the blood. Needs Dean.

Sam hardly registers the way his body responds, the flush rising on his cheeks and across his chest, the tension quickly growing in his jeans. Because of the associations he’d made with Ruby, the sexual association with getting a fix, the smell of the blood was enough to get him hard on its own. But the fact that it was Dean, everything he’d never dared to admit he wanted, Dean’s _blood_ , it had Sam so hard, so fast, it made his head spin.

“You need to get out of here, Sammy. Right the fuck now. I can clean up by myself, it’s okay, I-“ Dean stopped as his eyes raked over Sam’s trembling form, barely holding himself up against the door frame. His mouth went dry when he noticed the straining bulge in his little brother’s jeans. Oh god. It was just from the blood. Had to be. That bitch Ruby fed Sammy the blood while he fucked her, so maybe it was some Pavlovian thing. It had to be because of the blood and not because of him…right? “….Sammy?” he choked out, trying to ignore the tension building between his own legs.

Sam gaped at Dean, feeling his legs shaking, his heart hammering. He took a wavering step toward his brother. “Dean…” he gasped out, his hands blindly seeking out Dean’s injured arm. “Need it, Dean…please.”

“Sam… _no_. It’s not a good idea, okay? I’ll be _damned_ if you get addicted again because of me. I’d rather shoot myself.”

“God, please, Dean…you have no idea how bad I need it,” Sam begged, and Dean instantly had a flashback to five-year old Sammy, giving him the puppy eyes and whining. If Sam kept begging like that, there was no way Dean could say no, and Sam knew it.

“Sammy…no. No. I’m gonna clean myself up, and you’re gonna go outside. Get some fresh air. Maybe finish off that bottle of Jack, clear your head a little. And I’m gonna bandage this up, get rid of the smell, and then we can forget all about this, okay?” Sam’s fingers were tracing over the jagged gash running the length of Dean’s forearm. “ _Okay?_ ”

No response from Sam, as he stood transfixed, turning Dean’s arm over in his hands. Dean curses himself, wishes he had the resolve to tug it out of his little brother’s grip. Sam glances up to make eye contact with Dean, and he slowly raises his forearm to his lips. No, no, no…. Without breaking his gaze, Sam drags his tongue slowly along the length of the wound, and Dean shudders, feeling his eyes flick over to black, the darkness ebbing at the corners of his consciousness. “God, Sam…you can’t…we can’t.”

Sam looks up at Dean defiantly, barely bringing the arm away from his mouth to say, “God has nothing to do with this, Dean.”

And then his lips are sealed over Dean’s skin, licking and sucking at the wound.

Dean hisses, feeling his darkness take over as the want builds inside him. Fine. Sam wants to play this game? Dean’ll play hardball. He tugs his arm out of Sam’s grip and ignores the bewildered puppy-dog expression, instead dragging his brother into a rough kiss. The noise Sam makes is entirely un-manly, but he melts into the touch anyway, tugging hungrily at Dean’s lower lip with his teeth. Dean, always the helpful big brother, decides to help Sam out, tearing his own lip open with his teeth and pushing the warm flow of blood into Sam’s mouth with his tongue. Sam moans, a guttural sound that goes straight to Dean’s gut and pools there in a surge of heat. He feels Sam’s hardness pressing insistently into his leg and he shifts so that it meets his own. Sam gasps and lets go of Dean’s lip, panting. “I’ll give you a hint, Sammy,” Dean murmurs against his brother’s mouth. “That’s not a gun in my pocket. I’m just real happy to see ya.”

Sam pulls back to look at him in shock. “You can’t be serious…” he starts, but when Dean grinds against him, the words turn into an incoherent groan.

“Oh, I’m dead fuckin’ serious, Sam.” Dean growls before capturing Sam’s mouth in another brutal kiss. “The one nice thing about being a demon? You don’t have to be picky about morals. Right now? I don’t give a shit that you’re my brother. In fact, I think it makes me want to fuck you even more.”

Sam whimpers, and Dean chuckles to himself. “What’s that, Sammy? You like that? Huh. Knew you were a junkie, but I never knew it’d take so little to turn you into a whore, too.” Oh, this was going to be fun.

“Hard for big brother, huh? That’s pretty fucked up, Sammy. I mean. Me, I’m a demon, so I’ve got an excuse, but you…” Sam whimpers again, and Dean grins to himself. “Are you gonna be a good boy for me? If you are, I’ll give you everything you need.” He uses his tongue to swipe the blood across his lower lip, pressing his lips to Sam’s for a gentler kiss.

Sam nods feverishly, chasing the blood to the very last drop with his tongue, and Dean laughs, the vibrations making Sam shiver. “Okay, Sammy. Since you promise to be good…how about you get on your knees for me and hand me your butterfly knife? I know you’ve got it in your pocket cuz I thought that’s what your hard-on was, at first.” Sam scrambles to his knees and digs into his pockets.

“But then I thought, “No, Sam’s knife is much smaller’n that…”” he takes his toe and gently nudges at the protrusion pushing out the zipper of Sam’s jeans. “Looks like you’re packing some serious heat there, Sammy. I mean, obviously. You’re a Winchester. But damn. Think you might be bigger’n me. But we’ll see, won’t we.”

Breathlessly, Sam hands him the knife and Dean smirks. “Huh. You _are_ a good boy. Where’d you learn to be so good for someone, Sammy? D’you like taking directions? Like being someone’s little bitch?”

Sam swallows hard and finds his voice. “N-no, Dean. Just you. Only for you.”

Dean grins as he flicks open the knife. “Good. Better be. I’m the only one who gets you like this, Sam. Got it?” he runs the blade over the palm of his hand, cutting a substantial slice from thumb to pinky. “And you,” he begins, holding it out to Sam to admire his handiwork. “Are the only one who gets _this_.”

The blood is buzzing through Sam’s veins, the power making him dizzy, he rises up on his haunches in attempt to lick Dean’s hand clean, but Dean’s other hand has the knife at his throat before he can even blink. “Uh-uh, Sam. I know you want it. But I’m gonna give you something even better, okay?” Sam blinks at him in confusion, sinking back to the floor. “That’s a good boy. How about you reach up here and open my zipper for me? Got my hands kinda busy here.”

Sam nods, reaching up and unfastening the button on Dean’s jeans with unwavering concentration. Oh god. Dean is hard. For him. This was the kind of thing that Sam could only imagine, the kind of thing he hardly let himself imagine for years. He drags the zipper down slowly, looking up at Dean expectantly for his next order.

Dean hisses, his eyes irreversibly black at this point. “Good boy, Sammy. Now I want you to take me out. You can touch me for a second, but then you’re gonna let go and put your hands in your lap and watch me, okay?”

Sam wastes no time in pulling Dean out over the waistband of his boxers, his head swimming from the high of the blood and the high of holding his brother in his hand. It feels like all the air is punched out of him. Damn, Dean is _big_. Huh. He wasn’t kidding about the Winchester genetics thing. “Hands in your lap, Sam,” Dean warns, and Sam obeys.

“Good,” Dean purrs, folding the knife and slipping it back into his pocket. He takes the hand he cut, pools the blood in his palm and reaches down, slicking the blood over himself. Sam looks like he’s about to faint. “This is for you, Sammy,” Dean murmurs. “Gonna get it nice and covered in my blood, and then I’m gonna feed it to you. And you’re gonna take all of it, aren’t you?”

Sam nods feverishly. Dean glances down at himself and deems his work effective. “Go for it, Sammy. It’s all yours.”

Sam lunges forward and captures the tip of Dean’s cock between his lips, licking it clean, the taste of the blood making him feel like he could blow at any second. Dean hisses and fists a hand in Sam’s hair, tugging him further forward. “See, I always knew all this girly hair was good for somethin’,” he laughs, twisting it around his fingers. “Always hated it when we were growing up cuz the longer it got, the longer I’d hafta spend in the shower, imagining myself doing exactly this. Using your hair like a handle to fuck your mouth.” Sam groans around him at that, and Dean feels his knees quake.

“God, look at you, Sam. Taking it so good for me. Licking me clean. It’s hard to tell what you want more, my blood or my cock.”

Sam pulls back as if he’s about to answer, but Dean uses the hand in his hair to pull him back down, groaning when he feels Sam choke on him. “Don’t answer that. I know how bad you want ‘em both. You’re practically shaking, Sammy. D’you think I can make you come like this? Make you come untouched, on just my blood and my cock and my voice?”

Sam moans around him in affirmation, resisting the urge to press a hand to the mounting stiffness in his lap. “Good,” Dean praises him, tilting his head back. “Now. Keep going. God, you’re almost taking it all, Sam. So good for me…” He hisses again when Sam swallows him to the root and starts sucking at him with reckless abandon. “Shit, Sammy…how the fuck d’you know how to- Ah! How d’you know how to do that? I swear to god, if you tell me ‘college’, I’m gonna have to hunt down some poor Stanford alumni, and-”

But Sam isn’t listening. He’s too far gone, too high, too close to coming. His vision starts getting blurry around the edges and then all he sees is white noise, and he’s moaning his orgasm around Dean’s bloody cock and shooting off into his jeans like a damn teenager, but he can’t even make himself care. The sight is enough to send Dean over the edge, grabbing Sam’s head with both hands and emptying himself down his throat, his knees giving way as he slides out of Sam’s mouth and collapses on the floor behind him, shutting his eyes and breathing hard, feeling completely boneless. “So good for me, Sammy…so good.”

“Yeah, Dean…” Sam breathes in response, looking over at his brother. When Dean opens his eyes, they’re green again. Sam smiles. It’s a new level of fucked up for them, sure. But this is the first time in a long time it’s ever felt like anything was going to be okay. “Alright there, Dean?” he asks, just to be sure.

“More’n alright, Sammy. You?”

Sam grins like an idiot. “I’m perfect.”

“Good." Dean huffs a laugh and pulls Sam into a one-armed embrace. "Addict.”

“Demon.”

“Bitch.”

“Jerk.”


End file.
